


Summer Breeze

by Fictionwriter



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: First Time, Lewis Summer Challenge 2015, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4693874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionwriter/pseuds/Fictionwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s summer, it’s hot and Robbie and James have a conference to attend on Robbie’s home ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Breeze

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks must go to Moth2fic, who sets me right and makes sure my work makes sense. Any errors are entirely my own because I played a bit after her excellent beta.
> 
> Thanks also to MistressKat and Pushkin666, the wonderful mods of Lewis Challenge, for organising yet another excellent challenge.

The night was warm and the room hot, almost unbearably so, even with the window open and a sullen night breeze drifting in, fingertip tendrils of air grazing over fever-warm skin.

Robbie shifted, trying to ease his body off the dampness of the sheet but sweat was making it cling to skin and crevices with equal tenacity. So instead he concentrated on the moist warm hands that were moving along his sides, stilling his body with quiet insistence, and the mouth that moved across his belly, tongue exploring his navel before going further south.

He had a few seconds to wonder why he hadn’t seen this coming days ago, when the whole thing started. Then he had no time for thought at all.

~~~

It began in the earliest evening of a hot August Thursday when Chief Inspector Innocent called DI Robbie Lewis into her office and handed him two white folders, the type that travel agents are fond of dispensing.

“What’s this, ma’am?” Robbie asked, curious in spite of a healthy dose of caution.

“Why don’t you look, Inspector Lewis? That way you might find out,” Innocent suggested, acerbic as usual.

Robbie opened one of the folders while Innocent drummed inpatient fingers on her desk top. He fanned the papers it contained out on the same desk.

“A conference on … cybercrime! That’s not exactly, what would James call it? My forte.”

“Which is why you have two folders,” Innocent pointed out, the suggestion of a smug smile tugging at her mouth. “Sergeant Hathaway will be attending with you. I’m sure he’ll be able to dumb it down for you.”

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Robbie said, studying the prettily embossed pages set before him and almost wishing they had a murder to attend to.

Which was pretty much how it was for James too, going by the frown on his face, when Robbie told him.

“Ah, come on, man. A weekend in Durham exploring the intricacies of the Global Law Enforcement Against Cybercrime. Something to get your teeth into, you being such a techno wiz and all,” Robbie told him.

That just deepened the brow lines a further degree. But all James said was, “We won’t have to sing Blaydon Races will we?”

“Nah, that’s only Newcastle. Durham’s far more civilised,” Robbie assured him. 

“I am relieved,” was the dry response. But the frown ironed out and a half-smile answered Robbie’s grin as James leaned back in his chair and gave him his full attention. 

 “’Sides,” Robbie carried on, “The venue happens to be University College. ‘In the stunning setting of the Great Hall of Durham Castle which will provide a unique and historic location’,” he quoted from the brochure he had pulled out of one of the folders.

“Hardly to be missed then,” James muttered, glancing down at the desk as if looking for some excuse or reason in the woodwork to do exactly that. But it was depressingly neat and tidily clear of papers and files. All their outstanding cases had been cleared days ago, even the paperwork was done. “And oh so different from our current historic setting,” he concluded.

“Well, we don’t have a castle,” Robbie reminded him.

James just looked up at him again and raised his eyebrows. “When exactly is this conference we must attend?” he asked after a significant silence.

“This weekend. We’ll have to leave tomorrow, first thing. We have rooms booked for two nights’ accommodation in the castle itself and full conference registration and schedules, all here in these folders.” He handed one to James, who peered at it suspiciously.

“Bit late notice isn’t it. What if I happen to have plans for the weekend?”

Robbie sighed. “Neither of us has a social life, everyone knows that. C’mon, I’ll give you a lift home so you can pack.”

Robbie grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair, ignoring the muttered “speak for yourself” from James, knowing he’d won and the lad would follow him, he always did.

They headed out into the bright sunshine of an endless summertime evening, Robbie turned his face to the sun, letting it warm him and chase off the artificial chill of the office air conditioning. A quiet end to a reasonably quiet week that had lacked the usual crime and incidences of murderous intent, backed by a full quota of seven days of summer weather, and by all accounts it was going to get even hotter. There weren’t many days like this to be had.

James had turned away to light the inevitable cigarette, pausing to watch the exhaled smoke drift slowly away in the unmoving air.

“So what’s brought on this desire of the Chief’s to expand our collective cybercrime horizons?” he asked. “I would’ve thought you and maybe Innocent herself would be the obvious choice. Why send me, a lowly sergeant?”

James stood with the hand not holding the cigarette thrust deep into his trouser pocket, shoulders hunched as if he knew what Robbie was thinking and was coming up with the appropriate response. And no doubt he did, and was. There was an affinity between the two of them that let them anticipate each other’s thoughts on a regular basis. Which made Robbie decide not to elaborate on Innocent’s not very flattering reasoning for including James, but go with his own agenda.

“You know Innocent’s pushing me to push you into applying for an Inspector’s position. And she’s right.” The argument was old, gone over many times, and James’ reluctance to pursue his future almost as frustrating as Robbie’s own indecision over retirement. “You’re more than ready, James.”

“Promotion isn’t what I want to concentrate on at the moment, sir,”

What do you want to concentrate on then Robbie wondered and thought of all the things he should say, how he could push just a little, but James could be extraordinarily stubborn at times and he had the feeling this was one of those times.

“Well, humour her on this at least, okay?”

James nodded. Satisfied Robbie turned away from the station and started walking. “’Sides, if I have to go then so do you. A couple of days in the hallowed halls of University College, should be right up your alley.”

There was no time for James to make a suitable reply before Laura Hobson came hurrying down the station steps to catch up to them.

 “Robbie, James,” she greeted, slipping her arm though Robbie’s. “I hope you’re heading in the general direction of liquid refreshment for I’m in dire need of some civilised company.”

“You mean the sort that actually answers back?” Robbie queried, then grimaced as Laura gave him a jolt with her elbow.

“Nothing wrong with talking to a corpse,” she said. “They usually have more sensible conversation than the living and they don’t answer back.”

“I’ll take your word for that,” Robbie grinned down at her, then glanced across at James. “Coming, James?” he asked.

But James shook his head, “I have to go home and pack, remember?” The frown was there again, but Robbie couldn’t pinpoint the cause this time. “Don’t worry,” he continued. “I’ll get Julie to give me a lift, she lives out my way.”

“I’ll pick you up at 7.00 in the morning,” Robbie told the retreating back and was rewarded with a nod and wave. He turned his attention back to Laura, feeling there was something he was missing somewhere but dismissed it as imagination.

“What was that all about?”

“We’re off up north tomorrow,” he explained. “A conference. Come on, let’s find that liquid refreshment and I’ll tell you all about it. And you can tell me all about how civilised my company is.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “You’d be lucky,” she said. But she held onto his arm all the way to the pub.

~~~

True to his word Robbie arrived at James’ flat early the next morning. James was already waiting, looking casual in a t-shirt and jeans that had seen better days judging by the hole in one knee.

James threw his duffle bag in the boot and they drove north, Robbie content to zip up the M40 a few miles over the speed limit while the traffic rushed past them in the outside lane. For once the weather forecasters had been right and it was hot and steamy, distant heat waves rising from the tarmac in shimmering mirages. And when the air in the car got too stale from the air conditioning they rolled down the windows and shouted to each other over the noise of the wind, arguing about the relative merits of the music on the radio, switching channels more to annoy each other than because of any real dislike of what was playing.

The further they travelled the more James seemed to unwind from the introspection that Robbie had become used to seeing in him of late and he relaxed himself, content to enjoy the company and the drive.

Lunch time came and they spent it at a service station near Sheffield. Then James took over the driving. Robbie sat beside him, every so often glancing across, taking a secret pleasure in watching James unobserved as he concentrated on the road ahead, enjoying the way the half-smile would turn into a full grin when Robbie said something irreverent or the pensive look that came over him during the quiet moments when his concentration made Robbie wonder what it was he was thinking about.

It was late afternoon before they exited the A1(M) and Robbie directed James through the outskirts of Durham. It had been years since he was there but the streets were still familiar and he only got them lost twice. James eyed him with suspicion when he told him to turn onto Leazes Road but the cold grey walls of the castle were in view, and the familiar River Wear ran swiftly under the bridge as they crossed onto the peninsula.

Prince Bishops car park offered overnight parking. Robbie grimaced at the cost, but what the heck, it was all on expenses and they’d been told there was no parking to be had at the castle. James unpacked the boot, handing over Robbie’s overnight bag and hefting his own duffle. They walked the short distance to the castle over narrow cobbled streets thronged with tourists and shoppers and entered the grounds through the gatehouse.

The castle was much as Robbie remembered it from his childhood, when tales of kings and prince-bishops had fed a young boy’s imagination for knights and chivalry, round tables and battles royal. The keep still loomed high and ivy still graced the walls of the bailey but to his adult eye a part of the aura of those childhood imaginings seemed lessened by the milling throngs of camera-carrying tourists and bustling castle guides.

An enquiry at the porter’s lodge led them across the courtyard, down into the castle to the reception desk and a smiling young lady in dark blue uniform who took their names and details.

“We have a room in the keep for you,” she said, fetching a key from a board behind the desk. “A double, not en suite I’m afraid.”

Robbie frowned, taking the offered key. He’d assumed they would have single rooms. From the expression on James’ face, the assumption was mutual.

“We are very full.” The receptionist chatted on, oblivious. “So there’s had to be some doubling up for conference delegates. Breakfast is in the Great Hall 7.30 to 8.30 and that’s the venue for the conference as well. The castle’s student bar, the Undercroft, is open to castle visitors and there are several good local pubs and restaurants within walking distance. Please don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions about our castle or your accommodation.” She drew a deep breath then finished with a flourish and an even bigger smile. “Have a pleasant stay, gentlemen.” 

A uniformed porter shuffled up to the desk as soon as she stopped speaking. He had the stoop of a chronic back pain sufferer and a prominent staring glass eye that was hard to ignore.

 “If you’ll just follow me I’ll take you to your room,” he said, picking up Robbie’s suitcase and Hathaway’s duffle bag before either could object.

 “Get easy lost in the castle, you know. Lots of passages and doors, can’t have members of the constabulary on the missing persons list, can we?”

“Heaven forbid,” muttered James, making Robbie grin.

The porter led them through a maze of passages and up endless staircases until Robbie was puffing and wondering if he’d need oxygen before they reached their room. Annoyingly the porter wasn’t even breathing heavily.

“You’ve got one of the top rooms, gents. Lovely view from up there, worth the climb,” the porter said, looking back at them as if discerning Robbie’s thoughts. The glass eye glared with disconcerting intensity while the other seemed to twinkle in the artificial light of the stairwell.

“Are we sure this isn’t Hogwarts?” Robbie whispered under his breath as the porter started up yet another staircase.

James snorted inelegantly. “I never thought you’d be a Harry Potter fan,” he said.

“Saw one of the films on the telly the other week, fell asleep before it finished though.”

There was a slight pause before James replied. “That tends to happen once you hit senior’s status” he agreed finally, in a tone obviously meant to provoke and a smile that welcomed a comeback.

Robbie was going to oblige but thought the better of it when he realised he might have to gasp out the words. And besides, they’d finally come to a halt at a long landing lined with narrow doors that put Robbie in mind of rabbit holes.

The porter stopped at one of the doors, dropped the bags he’d been carrying to the floor and held his hand out for the key Robbie was holding.

“There you are, sirs,” he said, opening the door with a slick key turn and gentle push. “The bathroom is at the far end of the corridor. Enjoy your stay.” Before either of them could say anything he was gone in a whiff of stale cigarette smoke and musty clothing.

“Well, that was weird,” James stared after the retreating back.

“Very,” Robbie shrugged, then dismissed strange porters from his mind as he took in their accommodation.

The room was what Robbie thought of as compact, but sparse might cover it as well. He looked at the chest of drawers under the window and the wash stand sporting a gloriously old –fashioned basin, with a jaundiced eye. At least there was a desk, with a kettle and what looked like tea and coffee making paraphernalia beside it. A steady shift of warm air was coming in through the open window, making the room feel humid. The porter was right though, the view out across the palace green was indeed lovely, the spires of Durham cathedral standing majestic against a brilliant blue sky and the silvery thread of the Wear visible beyond.

“Here, you’d better have that one,” Robbie said, putting his case down on the garish orange bedspread of the bed furthest from the door. “Don’t want you knocking yourself out on that beam.”

Hathaway eyed the beds, then the low ceiling supported by heavy wooden beams, one of which neatly dissected the room in half. He’d have to duck for the washbasin but the chest of drawers was handy and there was a small wardrobe on his side of the room. He dumped his duffle on the floor and experimentally sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing a little, then lay down flat and bounced again.

“Comfy, are we?” Robbie enquired, amused.

“Not too bad.” James announced with another full body bounce. The bed creaked ominously. James stopped moving.

“Maybe leave the athletics for another time?” Robbie was grinning openly by now.

James coloured and hastily sat up, hair dishevelled, face flushed and rueful. The look was good on him, giving Robbie a glimpse at a younger James, one not yet touched by conflicts of faith and conscience or any of the other myriad thoughts that seemed to trouble him at times. It was a look Robbie suddenly wished he could keep on the younger man’s face. It was gone all too quickly

 “Don’t know about you but I’m ready for a beer,” Robbie said, letting James off the hook.

“Sounds good to me,” James told him, getting carefully off the bed, which made Robbie grin all over again.

~~~

Robbie finished off the last forkful of chicken masala, laid down his knife and fork and sat back with a contented sigh. James was looking at him with a hint of amusement, his own cleared plate pushed to one side. The pub was full of a Friday night crowd but they’d found a reasonable oasis of quiet in a corner away from the telly and the Sky broadcast of the evening match.

“Did you come here often when you were young?” James asked him when the cheer died down from the latest televised goal.

The question wasn’t really unexpected. He’d known enough about the city to lead the way to Market Square and find the pub he remembered that served cold beer and good food. It was all familiar; old Durham town almost unchanged in a comforting sort of way. That James wanted to know more wasn’t surprising, rather Robbie found it pleasing in a way he couldn’t quite explain to himself.

“A couple of times. We used to gan all over in the old Morris me dad had, would go as far as the Lakes for a day out. Mam liked the aad places with a bit of history though,” he mused, pausing to let the events of the past drift into his thoughts. “Brought the bairns down here once, just afore we moved south, and went to the cathedral. I climbed the tower with our Lyn because Mark was still too little. All 325 steps. Val took Mark outside and they waved up at us, not that I reckoned they could see who was who all the way up the top, like.”

“It sounds good,” James said. There was a sadness there, easy to miss over the casual banality of the words. Not for the first time Robbie wondered about his own past, the one James never seemed to get around to speaking about.

“You’ve never wanted to move back, to Newcastle I mean,” James continued.

“Nah, nowt to come back for really. No relatives to speak of, just a few cousins and an auntie. Newcastle was our home, Val’s and mine, where we grew up. But that was a life ago, an old life and we made a new one in Oxford for the two of us and Lyn and Mark.” He trailed off, taking a sip of his beer.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring back memories,” James said, apologetic.

Robbie shook his head. “It’s a place, James. That’s all, and the memories are good ones to share.”

“It’s funny though,” James said, then carried on when Robbie lifted an eyebrow. “Your accent. The longer we’re here, the stronger it gets.”

“Haway, man. Give wer a few more days an’ aa'l be taakin pure Geordie,” Robbie told him

James spluttered, sending a spray of beer across the table. Robbie looked at him innocently.

“That was terrible!” James said, wiping his mouth.

“That was nothing,” Robbie corrected. “Get up to Newcastle and you’ll not understand a word.” He drained the last of his beer and held out the empty glass. “And it’s your turn to get the drinks in.”

Mellow from good food and several beers they meandered their way back to their room in the keep, negotiating the endless staircase with slightly unsteady legs but refined navigational skills. James bagged the bathroom first and wandered off with toiletries, towel and night clothes in hand, coming back on a breeze of fresh soap and damp hair and the information that the bathroom was ‘adequate’.

As it turned out adequate was an apt description; a shower encased with plastic curtains hanging from a dodgy looking rail, a toilet and a washbasin, and still filled with steam from James’ visit. The hot ran out when Robbie was a minute into his shower and he was spattered with a half-hearted drizzle of cold water. Cursing and still covered in soap suds he washed off as best he could, thankful it wasn’t the middle of winter.

James was asleep by the time Robbie got back from the bathroom, or seemed to be, lying on his stomach with the sheet pulled up to his neck, long limbs splayed out under the cover. Moonlight spread a blanket of soft light over him.

Robbie sat on his bed for a while, watching over the sleeping figure. The conversation after dinner kept playing through his head, the memories excerpts from a book to be examined and the pages turned as he talked of the past. It hadn’t hurt to remember, although he’d thought before that it might. But talking with James seemed to do that, bring an ease of mind he didn’t find elsewhere, even with Laura - who was both his ‘then’ and his ‘now’ and knew all of it.

Eventually he shook himself out of his daydreams and closed the curtain then retreated under his sheet and, lulled by quiet breathing, fell into his own deep sleep

~~~

The conference wasn’t quite as boring or dull as Robbie had anticipated. In fact there were several talks he actually enjoyed, the presenters breaking down the technology into slideshows and easily digestible facts.  But it was all starting to blur by the time the last speaker had wrapped up in the late afternoon and the lunch break seemed like a long ago respite.  
   
James checked his watch as they walked from the hall. “Time for a drink, sir?”

“Definitely, sergeant,” Robbie agreed. “That Undercroft sounds just the ticket. Think you can find the way?”

James had obviously been studying the castle layout because he led them unerringly to the steps leading down to the bar. They were hit by a solid wall of noise as soon as they reached the door. Robbie stopped short, making James pull up just as suddenly beside him and brush against his shoulder. True to its name, the Undercroft was almost dungeon-like, low ceilinged with the lighting artfully designed to throw the Norman arches into stark relief. It was also packed to capacity. They stood together and studied the ebb and flow of conference delegates. It seemed everyone had the same idea.

“I’ll get the drinks in,” James volunteered when they found a space beside one of the arches.

“Make mine a Newcastle Brown,” Robbie told him, and grinned at James’ grimace. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“I’ll take your word for it, sir. And stick to pale ale.”

He watched James thread a path towards the bar, so deep in thought that it was only the second time he heard his name spoken that it registered. He turned to the sound.

Dressed in a smart suit that did far more for her than the scrubs or trousers that were her usual uniform, Laura Hobson stood in front of him, her expression quizzical, sipping a fancy looking cocktail decorated with bits of fruit and one of those little umbrellas. Robbie wondered how she managed to actually drink through the paraphernalia. She looked good though and Robbie grabbed her arm to pull her into the relative shelter of the arch.

“Laura! What are you doing here?”

“Last minute decision. Alan was coming up this morning and there was a talk I was interested in. He had a spare registration so I grabbed it, and a lift.”

“Let me guess, Advancement in Digital Forensics.” Robbie said. Laura nodded, then the penny dropped. “DI Peterson’s here too then?” he said, looking around.

“Yes,” she waved the hand not holding the glass in the general direction of the crowd. “Hobnobbing with some old colleagues at the moment. I got bored then spotted you lurking underneath the arches, a very welcome distraction. Funny how coppers can talk shop all the time but balk at having a meaningful discussion about bodies and causes of death.”

“And my conversation, of course, is far more scintillating.”

Laura laughed; it was a genuine laugh, full of humour and knowledge. “You have had your moments.”

She took another sip of her drink. “You seem to be missing something. Where’s your James got to? You did come up together, didn’t you?”

Robbie grimaced at the possessive pronoun, and the implication, but let it go. “Yeah. Gone for the drinks, that’s if he can get near the bar in this lot.”

Laura looked around and pulled a face. The swirl of bodies seemed, if anything, to have expanded in the last few minutes, forcing them even closer together and against the arch. Robbie leaned in slightly to speak above the volume of sound.

“So, you and Alan?”

“God no. If I wanted large, bouncing and exuberant I’d get a Labrador.

Robbie snorted. “That’s not exactly how I’d describe DI Peterson. More the terrier type I’d have thought, tenacious like.”

It was Laura’s turn to smile. “Perhaps. He’s certainly persistent, I’ll give you that. Just not my type.”

“You have a type?” Robbie dared to ask, thinking of the times he and Laura had come together, only to part for one daft reason or another, the whys and wherefores of their failures never really falling into place or explainable.

Laura seemed to sense something of what he was thinking. “You know I do,” she said, her eyes soft in the dim light.

“I thought I did, for a while. But I always seemed to get it wrong.”

“We’re like old shoes, Robbie; well-worn and a comfortable fit.  We know each other far too well, and maybe that’s the problem. Why we can’t seem to get it right.”

“Not so much of the ‘old’ thank you, I get enough of that from Hathaway.”

Laura arched an eyebrow at him and Robbie laughed. But he knew she was right, what they shared wasn’t enough and that’s why it didn’t work. Impulsively he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a wise woman, Laura Hobbs?”

“Wise? That’s a matter of opinion,” she answered and there was a hint of sadness and regret in her eyes now.

Robbie drew back, catching James’ approach out of the corner of his eye. Saw him hesitate, then recover quickly and if he hadn’t been looking he would have missed the expression James had smoothed away just as quickly.

“Dr Hobson,” James said, handing Robbie his ale, his smile genuine now, and relaxed. “I wasn’t aware you were attending the conference.”

“Just for the afternoon. I’m heading back early in the morning, before the final address.”

James nodded and took a sip of his beer before he reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve a packet of cigarettes.

“I’m just, um, going …” he muttered, waving the pack in the general direction of the door and was moving away  before either Robbie or Laura had a chance to say anything, to be lost almost instantly in the crowd - cigarettes in one hand, beer in the other.

“Was it something I said?” Laura sounded more amused than upset.

“Nah, just James being James. Probably thought he’s doing us a favour or something. You know the way his mind works.”

“I do know this is the second time in a matter of two days he’s run off as soon as he’s seen me. I’ll be getting a complex soon!” Laura gave Robbie a searching look. “Or is there something going on there I should know about?”

Robbie opened his mouth to answer, though exactly what he was going to say he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter because they were interrupted before he could speak.

“Laura! I wondered where you’d got to.” DI Alan Peterson was coming towards them, white canine teeth showing bright in a broad smile, which dimmed slightly when he spotted Robbie. “Oh, Lewis,” he said. “Of course. Good to see you. Hathaway not with you?” 

Peterson didn’t wait for a response, just turned to the men who had been trailing behind, introducing them as fellow officers whose names Robbie immediately forgot as they shook hands, because his mind was elsewhere.

They stood as a group and the conversation turned from netcrime and hacking, through to the possibilities of espionage and terrorism – it seemed Peterson’s companions were quite the experts. Robbie had nothing to contribute and Laura was looking bored. Finally there was a lull in the conversation and Robbie took advantage.

“I’ll um, just go see where James has got to,” he said, more to Laura than the others, who weren’t paying a lot of attention to him anyway.  “Traitor,” Laura mouthed at him as he turned away. Robbie gave her a cheerful grin.

~~~

  
He found James in the Cathedral, as he knew he would. Because he knew James more than anyone else; his moods, the irrelevancies that made him laugh, the way he hid behind his intelligence and used it to ward people off. There was much more going on in James’ head than was good for him most times.

But Robbie had never examined why he knew so much about his friend before now. And where mere friendship ended and something more started. He did know that his world would be a darker, emptier place without James in it, so the sooner he sorted this out the better.

The church was quiet, it was close to closing time and only a few straggling tourists wandered the aisles. James was sitting at the end of a pew halfway down the central nave. His head was bent, the nearby flickering candles casting light and shadow across his face, his short hair darkened to a burnished gold in the dull overhead lights of the cathedral.

Caught by the singularity of the moment Robbie stopped and stared, understanding finally coming and knowledge with it of what it was he’d been looking for, what had been there in front of him all the time. With the knowledge came a sense of peace.

James shuffled over when Robbie squeezed in beside him, his expression neutral, apart from a raised eyebrow.

“I thought you were enjoying the company of the lovely Dr Hobson,” he murmured.

“I thought you were going for a smoke,” Robbie countered. “And the lovely Dr Hobson is enjoying the company of the equally lovely DI Peterson. Which you would have known if you’d stuck around long enough.”

“Oh!” James looked at him, startled, but turned quickly away again. “She came up with him?”

“She did.”

“I didn’t know they were an … item.”

“They’re not. But that’s beside the point.”

James turned to him again, the candlelight reflected in his eyes now, bringing flecks of red fire to the green.

“I needed to think.”

Robbie nodded. They were quiet then, wrapped in their own cocoon of silence while footsteps echoed through the nave and a cassock-cloaked figure made busy work with candles and prayer books.

Finally James spoke again. “You know, don’t you?”

“Aye, I do.” Robbie stood up. “Come on. Think the good Father wants to close up. Let’s walk.” He headed towards the exit from the cathedral, knowing James would follow.

It was still hot outside despite the sun tipping over the horizon and the pink-orange colours of the evening sky. Robbie loosened his tie and slipped his suit jacket off, hooking it over his shoulder. Stubbornly, James kept his jacket on, walking beside him with hands thrust deep inside trouser pockets.

They took the path down to the riverside walk, keeping pace with the brackish flow of the Wear. Robbie half expected James to take refuge in a cigarette, but he didn’t.

It was James who spoke first though, his voice strained. “How long?”

Robbie sighed. Sadness for time lost and longing for this to be right filled him. And fear that it wouldn’t.  “I’ve been unusually thick about things so the epiphany has been relatively recent,”

Beside him James stiffened even more, if that was possible. “I’m sorry. I should have asked for a transfer or something, left the force before things got this far.”

“What!” Robbie turned to him in astonishment. But James wasn’t looking at him, absorbed instead in a study of the river, his face turned away from Robbie’s gaze.

“Oh for …” Robbie stopped and grabbed his shoulder, dragging James into the shadow of some trees beside the path so he could get him still and quiet and watching him while Robbie brushed his fingers down his cheek. Then Robbie leaned in and softly touched his lips against James’ mouth and stepped back to look for understanding to come into James’ eyes. Suddenly Robbie couldn’t breathe; the heat a heavy blanket that stopped the air and made his heart beat far too fast and loud. He waited.

Expressions were crossing James’ face almost too quickly for Robbie to catch; surprise, vulnerability, then a growing wonder. And Robbie could breathe again, even if his heart hadn’t stopped its mad gallop.

“Robbie.” It was a whisper of sound at first, then louder. And James had his hands around Robbie’s shoulders to pull him in again and this time the kiss was real and desperate and everything Robbie could have wanted. A little messy and clumsy at first, then familiar and warm, gentle and hard with the touch of James’ tongue on his and a groan that James breathed into Robbie’s mouth.

They pulled away at last to stay there, Robbie resting his hands on James’ hips, James with his arms looped over Robbie’s shoulders.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” The question hanging between them until James shrugged.

“What could I say? You’re straight, Robbie.”

“Am I? And you’re what? A habitual reader of Loaded and enjoy musicals? Thought you didn’t like labels, or assumptions.”

“And I thought you’d never come to the right conclusion, what I hoped was the right conclusion. And if you did you’d think it was a wrong conclusion anyway.”

Robbie thought about that for a moment. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you utter a sentence that didn’t make any sense.”

James snorted. “You know what I mean,” he said. 

“Aye, lad. Believe it or not, I do. And if there’s anything I’ve learned in me long life it’s not to take anything for granted, especially who you might happen to fall in love with.”

Robbie pulled James to him again and dropped a light kiss on his lips. “Let’s go home,” he murmured and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

He bent to retrieve the jacket that had fallen to the ground when he dragged James into the trees and then they walked side by side, shoulders touching, back along the path together.

Home right then meant a small student flat in a big castle, but it was good enough.

~~~

It was bells that woke Robbie that next morning. Loud, insistent, clanging; pulling him from a deep and peaceful slumber. He lay there blinking at the unfamiliarity of the ceiling wondering for the moment where he was, until the pieces fell into place. He tried to sit up with the thought to close the window, but found he was trapped by an arm across his chest and the sheet that tangled him tight against the body next to him. He lifted his head to look at his bed partner. James hadn’t so much as twitched.

The bells kept ringing.

Robbie let his head fall back onto the pillow with a thump and a muttered “bloody hell.”

“It’s the cathedral bells. Calling the faithful to service.”

Robbie stared but James hadn’t moved and his eyes were still shut.

“Well, if the faithful haven’t heard them by now and answered the call they must all be the bloody faithful dead.”

That made the lips curl into a half smile and Robbie suddenly found eyes turned more blue than green in the morning light regarding him with amusement. He’d looked deep into those eyes last night too, when they were darkened by moonlight and passion. It had been clumsy and awkward at first, their lovemaking. Elbows wrong and knees in the way, too many hard edges where there shouldn’t be hard edges; but they had worked at it until they got it right.

“Ten bells, the heaviest, the tenor, weighing just under 1.5 tonnes, all ringing in the key of D.” James intoned.  “Probably enough to wake the dead and bring them out to morning service,” he agreed with utmost seriousness, the smile still hovering.

Robbie took a moment to consider his response, it never paid to let James get away with too much verbal smugness. “And I suppose you just happen to know that off the top of your head.”

The smile broadened. “I can read brochures too, you know.”

Robbie pounced, finding with accuracy the ticklish spot just under James’ ribs he’d discovered the night before. They were both laughing and breathless by the time they finished, tied together in the sheet that had refused to let them go.

They lay still, staring at each other. After a moment of silence the well-known frown creased James’ forehead.

“Are you sure about this, Robbie? There will be … problems you know. Consequences. There are plenty of people who won’t understand about us. I don’t want you to start something you’ll regret later.”

He looked so troubled Robbie had the momentary thought he might struggle out of the bed and run for his life. He took hold of James’ hand and rubbed his thumb across the long fingers.

“There’s nothing I regret now and nothing I’ll regret later. I’m where I want to be, James, here with you. Trust me. We’ll work this out, together.”

James’ face cleared and the sun came out again.

“I do believe we will,” he said, eyes shining.

And Robbie kissed him. He only meant to do it once, because it was time for them to get up and leave, it really was. But he kissed him again anyway and James kissed him back.

“We’ll miss today’s keynote address.” James murmured against his lips.

“So we will.”

James’ stomach rumbled. “We’ll miss breakfast too,” he said, kissing down Robbie’s neck.

“We missed dinner last night an’ all” Robbie murmured into James’ hair.

“I’m not hungry anyway,” James lied.

“Neither am I,” Robbie lied back at him as his own stomach rumbled in sympathy.

James laughed, a sound of pure joy, and managed to turn them so the smooth long length of him was resting on top of Robbie. He kissed Robbie then, deep and full of promise.

And there they stayed, on a summer’s day with a gentle breeze blowing through the window and their futures ahead of them.

  
End


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